


Under Fallen Stars

by ParadiseAvenger



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Prostitution, Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 07:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseAvenger/pseuds/ParadiseAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a tale that might not be true... There as once a spoiled prince who was given anything he wanted and a slave who catered to his every whim. And they lived happily ever after. The end. But that is not the way this story will end... AU. Adult themes, rape, torture. Three-shot. AxelXRoxas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

I haven’t been able to write all week. I’m all blocked up because I have a million ideas and was forcing myself to keep to my main story. Well, I exploded… so, even though I should probably be working on Deafening Silence, I present to you all—well, this… 

Inspired by chapter eight, The Star of Jealousy, from the manga Tarot Café. It’s a great story. I’d recommend giving it a read—it’s pretty short, too, only seven volumes.

X X X

This is a tale that had passed from truth, into legend, and finally fading into myth. At this point, after so much time had passed in the mortal world, it was uncertain that something like this had ever happened to anyone anywhere. Most of the story has been changed or forgotten, but still… I assure you, it might not be something that ever truly happened. Or maybe, it was closer to the truth than anyone would have ever cared to admit…

And so this tale begins.

Axel had been a fantastically spoiled prince from day one. Not only was he his father’s favorite son, but he was the youngest of eight sons and three daughters. As the baby of the family and having not a single chance at the throne, he was often given anything and everything he wanted. He was denied nothing. And so, on that day, he was of course not denied what he wanted. 

The year was 1529 in late October. It was a dark day in history for the neighboring and now-conquered kingdom. But for Axel’s land, it was nothing more than good news. Since he was too young—merely thirteen—at the time to have been involved in the battle directly, he was lounging around in his father’s throne room, eavesdropping on the conversations about the fierce battles and great victory and, best of all, the spoils of war. Biting into his apple, he reclined against an exquisite marble pillar and merely listened for something interesting. Finally, after the boring diplomacies were over, Axel heard something wonderful and interesting.

“Are these the new slaves?” his father asked. His large voice boomed through the great hall, surely frightening the prisoners.

“Yes my lord,” a servant said softly.

Axel peeked around the pillar, hoping to catch a glimpse of these new prizes. The apple slipped from his fingers and rolled across the polished marble floor, causing another servant to scramble to pick it up. As if drawn by an invisible string, Axel found himself rising to his feet and coming around the pillar where he had been hiding in the shadows. 

“Axel?” his father snapped. “What are you doing here?”

Axel barely heard his father’s powerful voice. He was too captivated by the site before him.

The slaves to be added to his father’s harem were lined up before the throne, pressed shoulder to shoulder in a fearful huddle. Sheltered between two beautiful women was a gorgeous young boy. He must have been only six. He was cowering, clearly frightened, yet still just stunning. His hair was the color of shining gold, his eyes a shade short of sapphire, his lips were like the petals of a rose, and his skin was flawless alabaster. Though his eyes were red-rimmed from crying and his lips were slightly chapped, he was still stunning. His body, though thin and draped in filthy grey cloth, was thin and corded, strong and very sexy. 

Axel’s mouth watered at the sight of him. He looked like the god of beauty reincarnated into a mortal coil.

“I…” Axel whispered.

“Axel?” the king repeated.

“I want him,” Axel gasped. “Please.”

And, because Axel was his father’s favorite son and the baby, he was denied nothing. The king nodded, waved his hand, and gave his command. Like a frail sheep being cut off from the rest of the flock, the boy was tugged from the group and forced to his knees at Axel’s feet. Axel put his toes beneath the boy’s chin and made the cowering creature look up at him. His breath was lost in his throat, choking him. This boy was so stunning, so gorgeous, so lovely…

“I’m your master now,” Axel’s mouth said without his permission.

The boy’s blue eyes darted, fresh tears gathering in the corners. One shining jewel slipped down his pale cheek, smearing away a thin layer of grime. 

“Understand?” Axel’s mouth said again.

The boy shuddered, but weakly nodded. 

“Son?” the king asked.

Axel glanced at his father, bowed, and said gratefully, “Thank you, Father.”

The king dismissed him with a wave of his heavily-jeweled hand.

And so, Axel grasped his new slave by his thin wrist and pulled him to his feet. Stumbling, weakly protested, the boy followed after him—after all, what choice did he have? Once they were out of the king’s throne room, Axel pushed the boy up against the wall. He wanted to kiss him, wanted so badly to just take every inch of him, but the boy cowered, whimpering in terror. Axel stilled his movement, gently tipping the boy’s face up to look at him. Tears glistened in those red-rimmed blue eyes and now Axel saw deep bruise-like shadows beneath those orbs. 

Axel sighed heavily, brushing some flaxen hair from the boy’s face, his fingers lingering at the curve of his jaw. His skin was so soft beneath his fingertips, like living velvet, but what Axel had originally thought was dirt were actually faint bruises. This boy had been through a war, lost his country and his home and probably his family. Then, he had been brought here to become part of the conquering king’s harem, to be a whore for the rest of his life. These thoughts sobered Axel’s passion. He didn’t even kiss the boy. 

All he did was ask, “What’s your name?”

The boy took a long time in answering, wetting his chapped lips. “R-Roxas,” he said finally.

…

In the ten years that followed, the spoiled young prince was happy that he hadn’t taken Roxas that first night. Such an act would have probably broken him and that would have been a terrible thing. Not only was Roxas beautiful, but he was smart and funny. Axel catered to the boy’s every whim—teaching him to read and write, teaching him swordplay and music, dressing him in fine clothes, dazzling him with gifts and inviting him to grand parties at his side. To break someone so wonderful… it would have been the cruelest of all acts.

Axel soon came to love the slave and he truly believed that Roxas loved him as well. Their bond was close, close enough that it agitated the men and women of Axel’s small harem and the knights and servants that attended him night and day. He had eyes for no one but Roxas.

And he used his power to give Roxas everything.

“Roxas,” Axel called. “Come here. I have something for you!”

Roxas appeared from the shadows, just as beautiful now as he had been in his tormented youth. In fact, Axel thought he was even more beautiful now with his face so distinguished and his body so much stronger. He no longer looked like a fragile child.

“Here,” Axel said and removed the large jewel from his finger. He pressed it into Roxas’s hand, smiling at him. “It’s a family heirloom. Wear it always and let it remind you of me.”

“You are too generous, my lord,” Roxas said, kneeling at Axel’s feet in a courteous bow. Though they were old friends, it was important that Roxas still showed the prince his respect. He was merely a slave after all, no matter how finely Axel dressed him or treated him. That would never change. He was merely a slave, one who should have become nothing more than a whore in the king’s endless harem years ago. “My lord,” Roxas whispered, slipping the jewel onto his finger and admiring it.

Axel tipped up his beautiful face. “Roxas, you may call me Axel when we are alone,” he said softly.

Roxas scanned the room swiftly and found that the room was empty of servants or other slaves. His lips curved faintly. “Axel,” he murmured.

But little did they both know—they were not alone. From the shadows, a beautiful woman watched and grew angry at the bond between them. She would someday have the prince’s affection, attract his eye, and finally bear his child. But not now… Now he only had eyes for Roxas.

The young prince beamed and then leaned down, closing the space between them. His palms cupped Roxas’s pale face, felt the boy’s chin lift to welcome the kiss, and for a moment, their sweet breath mingled. Then, Axel kissed him fully. 

Roxas’s lips were soft and warm and parted beneath Axel’s mouth like the petals of a flower. Axel couldn’t resist the temptation those parted lips invited. His tongue slipped into Roxas’s mouth, licking just beneath his teeth in that sensitive place that made Roxas melt. His arms wound around the young man, holding him close, while he devoured him. Then, finally, they broke apart. Roxas was panting, but Axel was merely heated and aroused. 

“Roxas,” he whispered and captured his young slave’s lips once again.

Then, he broke apart before he took Roxas right there on the cold marble where anyone could walk in and see them. He took Roxas by the hand, feeling the press of the jeweled ring against his palm, and led him from the room. Out into the lush gardens they went, deep into the thick canopy on a bed of grass where no one would think to look for them. It had been their hiding place for some time now—a place where they went to be together where no one could judge them.

Not even the king quite approved of Axel’s fondness for this single young man. 

But since Axel was never denied anything he wanted, no one said anything. At least… not to Axel’s face.

Axel pushed Roxas down on the thick jade-grass, their fingers tangling. Roxas pressed a kiss to his lord’s knuckles, smiling, and whispered Axel’s name again. Deft fingers unfastened Roxas’s pale shift, letting the fabric slide sensuously across that alabaster skin. Axel’s lips and fingers teased a smoldering path from Roxas’s throat down to his nipples and to his navel. There, Axel returned to his mouth and kissed him passionately. A small sound of pleasure escaped Roxas’s mouth, swallowed up by Axel.

Roxas’s free hand wandered the planes of Axel’s chest, slipping within the folds of the densely embroidered fabric. He caressed the ridges of muscles, teasing and exploring. He ghosted his fingertip over Axel’s nipples, watching his prince squirm in pleasure. Then, Axel kissed him again, deeper, harder, with more love and passion. Roxas’s legs tightened around Axel’s hips, his arousal straining. He could feel Axel’s as well, their lengths bumping through the barrier of the fabric.

Roxas freed Axel, stroking him hard and fast, nearly bringing him to the peak too quickly. Axel had to pull away and gasp out for desperate breath. Then, he kissed Roxas again, being sure to torment the sensitive place behind his teeth until Roxas moaned. Axel pulled off Roxas’s pants, tossing them aside, and fit himself between the beautiful boy’s legs. His erection bumped Roxas’s puckered hole ad Roxas sucked in a small sharp breath. No matter how many times they had been together, he was still nervous at the moment of entrance into his body.

Axel kissed him gently. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’ll be gentle.” 

Roxas nodded. “I know you will.”

Axel produced a bottle of oil from the folds of his shirt and poured some onto his fingers, rubbing them together until they were slick. He pushed one finger into Roxas’s tight body, watching as a small touch of pain flit across the boy’s features. When he added the second finger, there was even a moment of fear, but Roxas calmed as Axel kissed him. The spoiled prince would never understand why Roxas was always like this—just a little afraid. (The pain he could understand.)

“Roxas,” Axel whispered, kissing him gently as he thrust his fingers slightly.

Roxas’s hips lifted immediately in pleasure as Axel touched his sweet spot, moaning softly. Just like that, all traces of pain and fear were gone. Roxas’s wanton blue eyes slide open, lidded by thick pale lashes like twin fans. “Take me, my lord,” he gasped. “Axel, please.”

Axel didn’t deny him. He slid in slowly, gently, as he had promised. All the while, Roxas moaned and clawed at his back desperately, his mouth falling open in pleasure. Axel kissed him again, their tongues dancing, and then Axel as sheathed inside him. Despite Roxas’s pleas for movement, Axel waited a moment, letting the boy’s clenching muscles adjust to the size and intrusion. Finally, the agonizing tightness had abated and Roxas was truly ready for him.

Axel began to move, thrusting hard and deep. He lifted Roxas’s body slightly, providing the perfect angle for the length of his shaft to brush Roxas’s prostate. The boy clung to Axel’s body, panting in pleasure, his hips rocking helplessly to match Axel’s thrusts. He moaned Axel’s name out, his cheeks reddening with bliss as his orgasm built inside him. Axel could feel the familiar coil as well, tightening, tightening. He grasped Roxas’s shaft, pumping it in time with his thrusts.

“Let’s cum together,” Axel whispered.

Roxas nodded, his eyes hazy with pleasure.

In only a few more strokes and thrusts, they both did. Roxas’s seed splattered Axel’s naked chest, Axel’s own semen pouring into his lover’s wonderful body. They collapsed in the thick grass, still intertwined in a tight embrace. Roxas nuzzled into Axel’s side, content, and Axel stroked his pale hair. For a long time, they were both happy to stay like that, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Then, finally, Roxas began to stir. He sat up and wiped the semen from Axel’s chest with his fingers.

“Is something wrong?” Axel asked, watching his love. “You look troubled.”

Roxas jolted, glanced at Axel, and then looked away. “It’s nothing,” he said.

“Talk to me. I will give you anything you wish,” Axel whispered.

“You’ve already given me too much,” Roxas murmured, fingering the ring.

Axel lifted his chin, making Roxas meet his eyes. “Roxas,” he said firmly. 

Then, because it spoke more than any words he ever could have said, he kissed the boy tenderly. Roxas sighed in pleasure, melting into Axel’s arms, but he still didn’t speak. Never one to pressure Roxas into anything, Axel allowed himself to stretch out on the plush grass. He laid him head in Roxas’s lap, closing his eyes as Roxas ran his fingers through his silky red hair. The touch felt so good that he was nearly asleep when Roxas finally spoke. 

The boy softly confessed, “I would… like to know where I’m from. And I would… like to meet my family… if they’re still alive.”

Axel sat up sharply. Roxas had never asked about his family before. Though Axel knew perfectly well where Roxas had come from, that he was a slave captured from the neighboring kingdom after its people had been conquered, he didn’t tell Roxas this. Instead, he said, “I don’t know where you’re from. My father brought you here when you were young, remember? I’m sorry.”

Roxas gazed at Axel’s face, taking in the strange expression, but not really knowing what it meant. He murmured, “I was foolish for me to ask. I’m sorry.”

Axel cupped his face. “Are you lonely, Roxas? I won’t allow you to marry, but I’ll give you as many women as you want. I will give you anything you want.”

Roxas smiled softly, closing his eyes and leaning into Axel’s touch.

But Axel’s heart grew stormy. What if Roxas found out his family might very well be alive and living just the next kingdom away? Would he hate Axel for not telling him the truth? Would he leave Axel? What if he… never came back to Axel? The spoiled prince couldn’t allow that. He was always given what he wanted and he wanted Roxas to stay at his side forever.

The very next day, he spoke to his father.

X X X

Second, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! **The Breaking of Poisonwood by Paradise Avenger.** (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior… Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to his advantage. The Poisonwood—)

Questions, comments, concerns?

Please, review because I don’t often write yaoi and am feeling quite insecure about it.


	2. Part II

Ro: There isn’t much chance of me cutting this off like I did with Broken Hallelujah because I already finished this. I’m just posting it. I think I bit off more than I could chew with Broken Hallelujah, but I’ll finish it eventually. I just have to wait for inspiration to bite me in the ass.

X X X

Roxas rode out at the end of the week with the king’s soldiers. He wasn’t sure why he was going into battle, especially since he was merely a slave and nothing close to a soldier. Though he had practiced swordplay with Axel since they were both small, he wasn’t sure he was on par with the knights. And yet, the king had said that he recognized Roxas’s great potential in swordplay and was giving him this chance to rise up from being a slave to become a young knight. It was a dream of Roxas’s and he just couldn’t say no. Now, he wasn’t so certain.

“This is such a small town,” Roxas remarked to the soldier beside him when the tiny village came into view over the crest of the hill.

“I know,” the soldier said. “And yet we’re supposed to slaughter every living thing, even women and children.”

Roxas swallowed nervously. “Really? Why?”

The solider shrugged.

Roxas’s hand fell to the heavy sword at his side, his fingers trembled.

“Are you scared?” the soldier asked.

Roxas glanced away. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re the young prince’s favorite slave, right?” 

He nodded.

“Don’t worry. This insignificant town is full of women and children and old men. There’s no one of real skill here. It won’t be a battle. It will merely be a slaughter. I’m sure no one will lay a scratch on you,” the solider said absently.

Roxas didn’t look convinced, his hand closing around the hilt as he looked at the faces of the soldiers around him.

“I’m Sora,” the soldier said. “Stick with me. I’ll watch out for you.”

“Thanks,” Roxas murmured.

Then, the other soldiers drew their swords and let out a fierce battle cry. The horses began to prance, eagerly pulling at their reigns. Roxas pulled his sword from the scabbard, gripping it tight. Sora kicked his horse, the beast leaping forward down the hill. As one, like a damaging flood, the army poured down the hillside and annihilated the small town below. 

There was so much blood, women and children sobbing, and people screaming in agony. They were images that would stay in Roxas’s nightmares for a long time to come, burned into his very soul. But he rode into battle because it was what Axel desired of him. And Axel was never denied anything he wanted.

…

Roxas arrived back at the palace and eagerly dismounted his horse and retuned his borrowed sword. He wasn’t sure battle was anything he every wanted to see again, at least not this senseless slaughter of women, children, and the elderly that could wrongly be called battle. His clothes were stinking of blood and death. He was in a hurry to change, find Axel, and release all his pain, but alas things did not go as he planned. 

A beautiful woman stepped into his path, her fine dark hair brushed into glimmering waves and her ears dangling with jewels. She was Axel’s princess, though that rank was not much of a step up from a concubine in the prince’s harem. Now, Xion’s belly was rounded with child, her hand supporting the early weight on her frail body.

Roxas immediately knelt at her feet. “My lady,” he murmured.

“Stand up, Roxas,” she said gently, her lips curving into a smile. “You were victorious in battle, were you not? No soldier who fights for his kingdom should ever have to kneel, even before royalty for where would royalty be without loyal servants and soldiers?”

Roxas flushed, but straightened up. “My lady, Xion,” he murmured gratefully since she always seemed to overlook that he was a slave in the same way Axel did.

She smiled, reaching out with the hand not supporting her swollen belly to stroke Roxas’s pale face. She twined some pale blonde locks around her fingers, smoothing them against Roxas’s cheeks. “I envy you,” she whispered suddenly. “I envy the love the prince has for you.”

Roxas took a step back. “What do you mean?”

She laughed softly. “Everyone knows that Axel loves you more than all his concubines,” she looked away, beautiful blue eyes downcast. “He loves you even more than me,” she whispered almost bitterly as she passed a hand over the child growing in the shelter within her. 

Roxas opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

“Don’t say anything. You deserve every bit of his love,” Xion told him firmly. She tucked some dark hair behind her ear, the headdress she wore shining in the light. “You are so loyal to him, even riding off to butcher your own hometown on a whim of his.”

A chill went through Roxas, freezing his very heart and soul. For a moment, he was unable to even breathe.

Xion continued speaking, staring down at her belly. “I pray that when this child is born, he will have a servant just as loyal as you. Someone who would murder even his own parents for his master,” she murmured, lips curving in a faint smile. Then, she looked up at Roxas and saw his stricken expression. “Roxas?” she asked.

“W-what do you mean?” he choked out. “M-my hometown?”

Xion lifted a dark brow in confusion. “You mean… you didn’t know?”

Roxas slid to his knees, his heart breaking.

…

Axel was lounging in his study, pouring absently over one book or a another without really reading them. He was waiting for Roxas’s return, but trying not to appear as if he was only waiting for the lowly slave. Even if he became a soldier, underneath all the riches and land that could be showered on such a knight, he would still be a part of Axel’s harem and still a slave. The love Axel had for him would still be wrong.

Finally, the door opened and Roxas entered. Though he had bathed and redressed in clean clothes, the stink of battle and death clung to his skin. That, and there was a strange desperate look on his haunted pale face. His eyes, usually so beautiful, looked like pits that went up into the endless sky. 

“Ah, Roxas,” Axel remarked happily, closing his book. Whatever was bothering Roxas, he would speak of it to Axel and Axel would comfort him and they would kiss.

But Roxas did not speak. His eyes darted sidelong, still strange. 

“If something’s bothering you, you can tell me about it,” Axel offered, leaning his elbows on his desk. 

Roxas bit his lower lip.

“Talk to me, Roxas,” Axel murmured, smiling. 

And Roxas could not deny the spoiled prince anything he desired. So he spoke the bitter words—“Did you send me to murder my own people?”

Axel’s brow wrinkled. “What?”

Roxas repeated himself. “Did you send me to destroy my hometown?”

Axel grit his teeth. “Who told you that?” he asked.

Roxas’s eyes widened further, the pulse in his throat racing. “Please!” he nearly shouted. “Tell me the truth! Was that my hometown that you sent me to destroy? Did I kill my own parents? Is that the truth?” 

Axel’s green eyes were as hard as jewels. “So what if it was?”

Roxas’s knees buckled and he slid into a heap, his throat closing. “No,” he whispered, completely stricken.

Axel remained seated behind his desk, watching the spectacle with the detachment of someone watching a play. Even as a single tear leaked from Roxas’s blue eyes and rolled down his porcelain cheek to drip onto the marble floor. He watched, gaze stony.

Finally, Roxas moved from his crumpled position. He slowly stood, his body trembling. For a long moment, he stared into Axel’s eyes as if seeking the way out of a nightmare. This couldn’t really be happening, right? Oh, but it was.

Axel glared at him stonily.

Roxas pulled the ring Axel had given him from his finger and hurled it across the room.

Immediately, Axel’s green eyes flared with rage. “I gave that to you! It’s a family heirloom! Do you want to die?” he shouted at Roxas.

Roxas averted his gaze, his voice soft and broken. “My master… you abandoned me so now I abandon you…”

Axel’s eyes blazed with fury. He rose from the desk immediately, stalking to where Roxas stood like a lion stalking a helpless lamb. The whip that Axel usually carried at his waist was lying in the corner of the room. Now, he grabbed it, the tip cracking the air cruelly. Roxas winced, but did not back down. When the stinging leather bit into his face, he crumpled with a cry, tears leaking from his eyes and blood rolling down his face. 

“You dare challenge me?” Axel roared, whipping Roxas harder and faster with each word. “You were on your way to becoming my father’s whore when I saved you! And now you betray me!” 

The delicate fabric of Roxas’s shirt tore under the stinging whip and the leather tore into his flesh like a hot knife through butter. Roxas cried out as the whip even cracked across the tender skin of his knuckles and tore into the back of his neck. He was doubled over, kneeling at Axel’s feet in agony, as blood spread around him on the pristine white marble. The beating seemed to go on forever and ever, Roxas’s frail battle-exhausted body breaking apart with each cutting blow.

Suddenly, the stinging whip lashed around his neck, pulling tight and choking him. Axel yanked on the whip, forcing his head up and further strangling him. Roxas looked into his prince’s jade-green eyes and saw nothing of the lover who took him so gently in the garden. This was merely a tiger hiding behind a human façade and this tiger wanted to devour Roxas’s very heart and soul. And Roxas was merely a slave, a whore—there was nothing he could do.

“Take back what you said just now, Roxas,” Axel hissed, “And I will forgive you.” He paused, eying the damage he had done to his beautiful pet. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Roxas’s blue eyes slipped open, vision blurred by the blood in his eyes. “Kill me if you must,” he whispered. “The prince I loved is dead to me now.”

Further rage blinded Axel as the spoiled prince was denied what he wanted. “I’ll show you what happens to a slave who forgets his place and challenges his master,” the prince shouted. “You will beg for mercy at the end!”

Roxas merely closed his eyes.

A moment later, the whip fell across his face.

…

In hindsight, when the spoiled prince Axel looked back on this moment from beyond the grave, he should have stopped right there. But things had already gone too far, cascaded far beyond any rational control. What he did to Roxas after that… it was so brutal. 

He killed the one he loved with his own hands.

In the lowest dungeon of the castle, Roxas was strung up by his wrists. He was naked save for the pair of tattered pants that he had been wearing the day this all started and now couldn’t be stopped. The shackles had cruelly cut into his wrists, blood streaming down his bare arms. Bruises marred his perfect porcelain flesh, the lashes of a whip covering every inch of his skin, and the finger that he had been wearing Axel’s ring on had been broken in several places. 

Roxas’s head hung low, his blood-stained blond hair hanging in his face. His blue eyes were hazy with fever and pain, dehydration and anguish, and deeply shadowed beneath his hair. Blood dripped from his lips, pooling on the stone floor at his feet.

Axel was standing in front of Roxas, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His green eyes were as hard as flint, his mouth set in a pitiless line, and his blood-red hair cast shadows across his face.

Roxas merely hung there, the tips of his toes barely touching the floor below. All his weight was suspended on his damaged wrists, his gaze staring through the floor. It was as if Axel wasn’t even standing in front of him, prepared to exact some new and horrible torment on the youth who had once been his lover. 

Suddenly, Axel grabbed a fistful of Roxas’s pale hair and yanked his head painfully back. Roxas’s vulnerable throat was exposed, the pulse of blood hammering and betraying his desolate façade. Axel licked the line of blood that had rolled down Roxas’s throat from his damaged mouth.

“You are my property,” Axel snarled. “A slave that I own, body and soul. I can abandon you, but you cannot abandon me! You cannot deny me anything I wish of you!”

Roxas didn’t speak, his far-seeing gaze focused on something Axel couldn’t see.

Enraged, Axel grabbed his horribly broken finger and twisted it harshly. A ragged cry of agony slipped from Roxas’s mouth along with a splattering of blood. A single tear escaped his eye, hung of his lashes a moment, and then slipped down his battered face. Axel wrenched the broken finger further, making Roxas scream as it was broken in a new place.

“I’ll forgive you, Roxas,” Axel said softly. “If you promise to forget everything and go back to the way things were. I’ll forgive you and all this pain will stop.”

Still, Roxas did not answer, further denying the spoiled prince.

Rage boiled in Axel’s blood. “Then I have no choice but to mark you so you never forget who owns you!” he shouted, spittle flying from his lips.

Fear awakened in Roxas’s empty eyes, his head snapping up in terror. “Please, no, my lord!” Even now, he couldn’t lose the honorific—something that should have stuck out in Axel’s hate-driven mind, but at the time did not.

From the fire at the center of the room, usually used to brand criminals, Axel chose a red-hot brand with their kingdom’s crest on it. The metal keened, so heated it was. Roxas squirmed in terror, the shackles carving into his wrists and spilling fresh blood. Axel tormented Roxas by passing the scalding brand just close enough to several places on his body that Roxas could feel the heat, but did not yet brand the youth. Then, finally, he chose a place for his mark. Just above Roxas’s right hip, he pressed the red-hot brand.

Roxas screamed, his blood-curdling voice bouncing against the stone walls as agony and despair tore through him.

The brand seared into the flesh for a moment that must have felt like an eternity. Then, panting from exertion, Axel let it fall from his hand and clatter noisily on the floor. Roxas sagged against his bonds, sobbing in agony, his eyes unfocused from the pain. The stink of burning meat filled the tight air in the dungeon. He clutched his chest, wondering why he felt pain. Tears rolled down Roxas’s face, small traces of blood oozing from the burn and staining his tattered pants.

Axel knotted his fingers in Roxas’s pale hair, yanking his head back at an unnatural angle again. 

Roxas whimpered softly.

“You excelled in everything,” Axel whispered against the shell of Roxas’s ear. “Beating even me. I wondered if there was anything you couldn’t do.” His breath tickled Roxas’s throat, tongue just barely touching his sore skin. “You would have made an excellent whore, too.”

Roxas jolted, a cry of pain escaping his lips as Axel’s hand ghosted over the raw burn to cup Roxas’s genitals. When he began to squeeze and stroke, his hard body pressing against Roxas’s soft backside. He already knew what was going to happen. A tear slipped from his eye, but no protest left his lips. He knew it wouldn’t matter what he pleaded now.

“My Roxas,” Axel murmured, his hot tongue darting out to trace the shell of Roxas’s ear.

The youth shivered. For him, who had always been afraid of the moment of gently prepared penetration even when Axel had loved him, to be raped like this was unspeakably cruel. It dredged up nightmares that Roxas had always had. 

Now though, he realized the nightmares were premonitions of this very moment, a lingering fearful thought that he had always had.

Now, Axel had forgotten all his love and care for Roxas. It had been devoured in a red wash of rage and hatred. 

Why couldn’t Roxas just continue to give him everything he wanted? 

Denying him nothing like the spoiled prince he was? 

Until the very end of the world itself?

He yanked down the tattered trousers that Roxas wore, tossing the material into the pit where the brand had been heated. The fabric blazed to life, the firelight illuminating the terror on Roxas’s face. He twisted his legs together, trying to hide his nudity. But Axel easily kicked his legs apart, kneeling swiftly to bind his ankles to bolts in the stone floor. Roxas’s legs were spread too far, all his weight pulling on his wrists and shoulders. Blood ran down his arms, hot on his chill flesh.

“Please, my lord, please don’t…” he whispered.

Axel didn’t hear his words.

His hand fell over the throbbing brand above Roxas’s hip, fingers cruelly raking the scalded flesh, as he shed his robes into a heap on the floor. Roxas’s blood splattered those white and purple garments, ruining them, but Axel was beyond noticing. His long hard length brushed between Roxas’s spread thighs, rubbing lewdly as Axel thrust against his naked skin. Roxas whimpered, goose bumps breaking out all over his skin in fear and agony. 

“Please,” he whispered one final time.

Axel did not care to listen.

Without lubrication or even a rough fingering, he pushed into Roxas. It almost hurt his cock to have to push into such tight dry muscles and Roxas screamed in agony as his core was torn apart. The blood made it easier for Axel to thrust into the boy, further tearing his frail body. Roxas’s fingers wrapped around the chains holding his wrists to the ceiling, both to try to take some weight off his agonized lower body and to anchor himself in this ocean of pain.

He whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks.

It felt like an eternity that Axel thrust into him, his hips bucking brutally. More blood splattered, Roxas’s body tearing further and further apart at the seams, and he could do nothing. The prince he loved was destroying him merely because he wished to, because Roxas hadn’t given him what he wanted. Finally, Axel shuddered against Roxas’s body, gripping tight to his hips and raking the brand further. His salty seed spilled inside Roxas’s torn body, just like rubbing salt into a wound.

Roxas sobbed, blood and tears dripping from his face.

Axel pulled out of his slave’s used body, hissing when he saw the blood all over his spent cock. More blood trickled down Roxas’s thighs, down his arms from his mutilated wrists, and finally landed in a puddle at his feet. Without looking back, Axel left the dungeon. He left Roxas hanging there, spread apart, and bleeding. 

It was more cruel than anything he could have ever done. Especially when rats and roaches seeped out of the shadows to feed on the fresh blood that pooled at Roxas’s feet.

X X X

Questions, comments, concerns? 


	3. Part III

On a good note, I got my job back! Yay! On a bad note, I picked up all the shifts that the new people vacated and bit off more than I could chew. I’m going to be working way too much this week. Boo! But I promise to make time to update Deafening Silence.

I found this was actually kind of refreshing to write, even though yaoi isn’t my thing.

X X X

That was the first of many times that Axel raped and branded Roxas. Towards the end, the slave didn’t even need to be restrained, even when the keening heat of the iron approached him. There was no part of his soul left that wish to struggle against anything, even the frightening blackness of death he would have welcomed. As a result, he didn’t even try to escape this hell now that Axel no longer bothered to restrain him. 

Where would he go anyway?

After a particularly long and brutal session of rapes and burnings, Roxas merely lay on the cold stone floor. He was naked, beaten, and shivering badly, but he didn’t even bother to curl closer to the heat of the pit where the brands were heated. He was too tired and hurt too badly. It didn’t matter if the reaper came for him. It merely meant that his suffering would finally be at an end. It was unspeakable how much his soul and heart shattered each time Axel took him cruelly or burned him or beat him.

He was finally ready for the end.

He heard footsteps on the steps descending into the dungeon, two sets of them, and loud voices talking. It must have been someone to come to bear his body away into a shallow grave. Roxas closed his eyes, split and bleeding lips pulling painfully as he smiled faintly. At least this would be over. He wouldn’t have to look into the face of the man who had once been his lover and see it transformed with hate so powerful it led Axel to brand him countless times in countless places.

He was ready for death, eager for it even.

Roxas waited almost impatiently.

…

Sora descended the steps with one of the lower generals of the army, chatting lightly. The slaughter of the innocent villagers of such a tiny insignificant town was long behind them now as soldiers naturally forgot unpleasant things with time and good company. The king had informed them of some prisoners who had been moldering away in the dungeon for quite some time now and had probably learned their lesson. If they had, they could go free. If not, well, then they had a long life in the darkness ahead of them. When faced with those two choices, most repented. 

Sora and the general reached the bottom of the stairs and immediately stopped. 

Something was strange.

Usually, the dungeon stank of mildew, piss, and stale air, but today… it had the unmistakable smell of burning flesh and rot. Death was in the air here, but that was strange because no prisoners had been slated to either be branded or left to die any time recently. What was in the air here, lurking in the shadows?

Sora lifted a torch from the sconce on the wall, sending shadows darting and racing.

He saw the red glow of the embers from the branding pit and hurried over, the general helplessly at his heels. Lying there, in a pool of blood, was Roxas—the spoiled prince’s favorite slave whom Roxas had meant on that slaughter-battle months ago. He hadn’t seen hide or hair of Roxas since that day, which was strange since he had often glimpsed the beautiful slave around the castle. Now, he realized why.

Roxas was… being tortured…

Most likely by the prince he so loved.

With a sharp cry, Sora threw himself to his knees beside Roxas’s naked and brutalized form. He shrugged out of his coat, wrapping it around the blonde’s naked shoulders and hugging him close. His throat was tight at the sight of the countless brands that marred Roxas’s pale flesh, festering in decay and infection, his thighs streaked with blood.

Sora cradled the spent body tenderly. “Roxas!” he half-shouted, watching as those battered eyelids fluttered, but did not open.

Roxas made a soft sound, melting into the gentle embrace he felt. 

“How?” he whispered. “How did this happen?”

Roxas’s lids fluttered again, prying open when he realized this was not the embrace of death, but something that could be equally as merciful. That was when he saw the beautiful woman and momentarily took her for an angel of death come to spirit him away. A moment later, his hazy vision came into focus and he breathed out her name in disbelief.

“Lady Xion?”

The prince’s wife pressed her delicate fingers to her mouth, her belly still rounded with child. Roxas realized that not that much time had truly passed—it merely seemed like an eternity he had spent in this hellish place. Then, a single tear rolled down her lovely face and she came to kneel just out of reach of the pool of blood at Roxas and Sora’s sides.

…

Axel didn’t learn of yet another denial of the things he wanted until the next day. As he had started doing morning, noon, and night, he went into the dungeon to rape Roxas. But his precious slave was not there, not lying on the ground as he had left him nor hanging naked from the restraints. In fact, the entire dungeon was empty of all prisoners. 

Axel stood still and silent a moment, flabbergasted, wondering how this could have happened. Then, he saw the single jewel lying on the floor as if dropped and forgotten in the midst of doing something forbidden and traitorous. It was his beautiful wife, Xion’s, earring. The sapphire glowed in the faint light cast from the torches and branding pit.

Axel picked up the fallen jewel, studying it a moment before he jumped to any rash conclusions. Xion did carry his child, hopefully a son. But the longer he stared at the jewel, the more certain he became that it was Xion’s. He remembered gifting her with such a set after buying the sapphires for Roxas only to realize too late that the slave did not have pierced ears.

He clenched the jewel in his hand, rage filling him once again. And so, the spoiled prince stalked from the empty dungeon, seeking out his wife. Since she was pregnant, and exhausted from a stressful day yesterday—stress Axel now realized was helping Roxas escape—he knew exactly where to find her. He threw open the doors to her lavish chambers with a bang.

“You bitch!” he shouted at her, his face livid.

She was on her feet in an instant, terror giving her swiftness and strength. “My lord,” she protested.

It merely reminded him of Roxas. 

“How dare you take what is mine?” Axel shrieked, advancing on her. “Where is he?”

Xion’s eyes widened in terror, her hands closing protectively over her swollen belly. “My lord,” she said again.

Axel struck her, hard, across the face. With a sharp cry, she crumpled in a heap, folding in on herself to protect her belly. When she lifted her face to fearfully look at him, he saw her pale cheek was already swollen and bruised. A fine trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her lips. Tearfully, she cupped her battered face, gazing up at him in terror.

“Where is he?” Axel snarled out, looming over her.

“P-please,” Xion whispered. “I… I don’t know.”

Axel lifted his hand to strike her again.

She cried out sharply, “Please! I don’t know! I gave him a horse and some money… I don’t know where he went!”

Red bloomed in Axel’s vision. Despite that Xion carried his child, he suddenly just wanted to kill her. How dare she deny him anything he wanted. He reached for his sword, his hand landing on the cold pommel and beginning to draw it.

Xion scrambled away, sobbing and sheltering her belly. “Please,” she whimpered. “Forgive me, my lord! I… I was afraid that you’d kill him so I… I helped him escape.”

Those words cut into the spoiled prince, staying his hand. Xion had thought that he would kill Roxas? But Roxas was his love, his most treasured slave. He would never kill him… and yet… if he had left Roxas in that dark dungeon any longer, what did he expect would happen to the boy’s frail body? Burned so countless times as it was, raped and starved and beaten. Death was surely following Roxas at this very moment. Even out of the dungeon, it would still claim him. 

Unless Axel did something to save him. Yes, he would find and heal Roxas, make the boy love and worship his every footstep as his savior once again. Then, when he was healed, they could pick up where they left off. They would make passionate love in the garden and go for long walks and talk about everything and practice swordplay together. And this time… if Roxas dared deny him, Axel would waste no time in killing him with his own bare hands.

But Xion was still crumpled before him, weeping loudly, still hiding something. Axel couldn’t leave just yet to find Roxas, not until he knew everything that had gone on behind his back. Why did Xion risk everything she had gained for Axel’s little slave? Was Roxas truly so beautiful? Or was it… something else?

Axel clenched his teeth. “So you loved him, too, did you?” Then, he raised his sword, fully intending to kill this beautiful woman before him because he was angry enough.

“No!” she screamed, tears streaming down her pale face. “You’re the one who loved him! I hated him!”

Axel froze, the sword rattling in his hand. “What… did you say?”

Xion sobbed louder, her mouth falling open in unrestrained sobs. “I hated him!” she continued, her voice both broken and enraged. “He took you away from me!” Then, she quieted, her sobs becoming softer. “I was afraid that… if something happened to him… if you killed him… you would never forgive yourself… and I would lose you forever.”

Axel stumbled back a step, the sword falling from his hand with a clatter.

Xion continued as if she hadn’t heard, as if she just had to speak these words through her tears. “I hated…” she sobbed. “I hated both of you…”

The spoiled prince slid to his knees in defeat. It seemed that no matter how people gave into him, how they gave him everything he desired, he never did so in return. He was not generous, taking and using these people until there was nothing left. He realized now that he had done the same to Roxas, the same to Xion. Maybe it was inevitable that he died alone.

But the spoiled prince wouldn’t let it be that way. 

…

He was so spoiled that he believed he would fix it all.

He sent the entire army out to scour in countryside in search of Roxas. He was wounded, beaten, branded… He couldn’t have gone far. Yet hours stretched into days with no sign of him. It was as if Roxas was merely a ghost that had vanished like a wisp of smoke or a half-remembered dream. Then, finally, something came of it. He did not find Roxas, but the army had found a soldier—Sora—who admitted to helping Roxas escape the dungeon that day. 

“Where is he?” Axel demanded of the soldier bound and kneeling at his feet.

Guilty, the general who had also been there and confessed Sora’s involvement to the prince stood off to the side, watching. 

Tears slid down Sora’s pale face, marked with bruises since they had tried to beat it out of him. “Roxas… died four days after his escape,” he whispered. “I scattered his ashes in the river… as he wished…”

Axel’s heart froze in his chest, ceasing to beat. He knew he should have executed the treasonous soldier, but he found himself without even the strength to lift his hand to give the order. He merely slumped back in his chair, defeated. The one thing he truly wanted was now lost to him… forever.

…

The prince finished telling the strange woman his tale, a single tear sliding down his cheek at the memories of all he had done wrong and was so unable to fix. It seemed unfair that now, everything he wanted was denied to him. He could never have Roxas back. Even Xion was lost to him.

“You were not kind or generous to people,” the woman said flatly, “mentally or emotionally.”

Axel bit back a hoarse chuckle. “Maybe that’s why I’m called Axel the Grim, you know?”

She was not amused by this, merely continued to stare at him with her hard eyes.

Axel looked away, ashamed. What he had done was nothing to laugh at. In fact, he should have been condemned to hell for what he had done in his spoiled temper and selfish rages. He may as well have killed Roxas, his lover, with his own hands along with his unborn child and his lovely princess. 

He cleared his throat. “I have heard that you… have special powers?”

“That has been said about me,” the woman said.

“Could you… maybe… find someone for me?”

Her eyes were like stone. “Perhaps.”

From his pocket, Axel produced a small package and handed it to her. “If you could simply… give this to him…”

She nodded, her fingers closing around the small thing. “Yes, my lord,” she murmured.

Axel smiled softly, tears burning in his eyes.

The woman gave him no pity, merely understanding. 

A few weeks ago, Axel had learned that Sora had lied to protect Roxas from Axel’s wrath. The beautiful slave was not dead, but merely in hiding, happy somewhere and finally free. Axel’s first instinct was to rush to find him and take him back, but then… he had not been so certain. He had been told of a woman with special powers—maybe to see into the future, maybe not—and had gone to speak with her. Now, he was convinced that he should ever speak with Roxas again, but still…

The woman would not deny the fallen prince this.

She traveled the distance to where she had heard of such a beautiful person whose body was covered in brands. He was kneeling among children, reading to them in the shade of a palm. There, she handed him the small package given to her by the prince, lingering only long enough to see what it was for she was curious thing.

Inside the silk lay a beautiful ring, something exquisite enough to be a family heirloom. Folded beneath it was a letter in a language the woman could not read. For a long moment, Roxas stared at the ring and then his eyes darted as he read the letter. Then, he crumpled to his knees, clutching both to his thin chest, and wept.

The rest of the story is lost after that. 

It is unknown if the kind frail beauty ever returned to the spoiled prince’s side. It is unknown if the prince merely died alone and the slave remained happy with his freedom. It is also unknown if the slave was truly sent to butcher his own hometown or if it was merely the lie of a jealous woman that spiraled out of control. Much of this story is unknown, resting on the border between myth, legend, and truth. But, I assure you, it is something that happened somewhere.

X X X

I ended it this way because I was going for the story-teller aspect that I started in the first chapter along with the way it was portrayed in Tarot Café. Give it a read, you won’t regret it.

First, drop a review and let me know what you think! Loved it? Hated it? Are scared for life because of what happened? (Flames will be used to roast marshmallows and weenies!) Think I need to do more editing before I post chapters? Post to slow? Chapters are too short? Too long? Yada, yada, yada… (Still feeling insecure about yaoi, talk to me, please.)

Second, check out my first ORIGINAL NOVEL! **The Breaking of Poisonwood by Paradise Avenger.** (Summary: People were dead. When Skye Davis bought me at a slave auction as a birthday present for his brother, I had no idea what my new life was going to be like, but I had never expected this. It all started when Venus de Luna was killed and I was to take her place, to become the new savior… Then, bad things happened and some people died. In the heart of the earth, we discovered the ancient being that Frank Davis had found and created and used to his advantage. The Poisonwood—)

And finally, questions, comments, concerns?

Toodles!


End file.
